


Young Miss

by nothingeverlost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moe French is a nouveau riche in the 20's that hires Gold, the best butler in town. Gold looks down at the portly, ill-mannered man but becomes besotted with the "Young Miss".</p><p>AU, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

Proper butlers did not pace. They stood so still that they were all but invisible until they were needed. Gold was a proper butler, and anyone who suggested otherwise would carry a bruise shaped like the end of his cane on their skin.

Gold was pacing.

The train was late. He’d been waiting for an hour, and though like a proper butler he’d arrived before he was needed, it had been more than forty minutes since the train was due, and still no matter how hard he stared at the tracks it did not come.

"Penny for the hungry, sir?" A beggar, one of the daring ones that did not wait on the street but came into public buildings, held out his hands.

"Begone before I give you more than hunger pains," Gold growled.

"I’m hungry. May I have a penny kind sir?" Gold barely had time to register the lilting tone that he’d been waiting for, before the beggar found himself with a dollar in his hand and Gold found himself with a girl in his arms, hugging him tightly. "I missed you, Rum."

"You were supposed to be on the train, young miss." He was torn between not wanting the affectionate gesture to end, and knowing how improper it was.

"The train broke down. I hired a car to bring me." She ended the hug with a squeeze, and stepped back. Gold, getting his first true look at her, almost lost his grip on his cane. Almost two years ago when she’d left for Europe she’d been more girl than woman. Now, at eighteen, there was little of the girl he’d met eight years ago. She was a woman in her own right.

"The railroad will be getting an angry letter on your father’s behalf. That’s hardly the way to oversee the safety of a young lady. They should have made sure you were escorted." Anything could have happened to her. Once again he cursed Moe French, silently of course, for not meeting his daughter in Boston at the ship. The buffoon had never deserved the daughter he was blessed with.

"I’ve wandered Europe the past two years, Rum, without an escort. Besides, I was anxious to come home."

"I hope that’s not true. That school of yours hardly deserves a bent penny if it is." Her smile was the same, and the twinkle in her eye. He can see glimpses of the girl who once pestered him for stories, and let him teach her how to sew a handkerchief stitch. The girl, too, who cried against his neck when her father was so busy with his business that he forgot her birthday. "I’m sure you look forward to seeing your father."

"He’s not the only one I missed." With ease she looped her arm through his. When she kissed his cheek, though, it was not of a little girl’s kisses that he was reminded. No, the lips against his skin belonged to a woman, and he was uncomfortably aware of that fact.

Belle French was no longer his young miss.


	2. Midnight Snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle can't sleep

Belle pulled the belt of her robe tighter around her as she walked down the stairs. The home where she’d lived from the age of ten, when her father had come into his fortune, to the age of sixteen when he’d sent her to finishing school was almost as foreign as France had been when she’d arrived. Nothing about it felt right. Well, nothing but the fact that her father had gone straight from dinner to his office. The one thing that she most wished to change was the one constant.

Of course.

The kitchen, at least, was more comforting than the looming antiques and gilt of the main rooms. She found a saucepan, though it was in a different place than the last cook had kept it. The milk was in the same place.

"You could have rung a maid and had that brought to you, Miss Belle." Almost mesmerized by stirring her milk as it heated, Belle did not notice that she was not alone until she heard the low Scottish brogue. She’d missed the voice for two years now.

"I’ve been denied a kitchen to mess about in for two years now, Rum, except for our lessons in cookery. Do you remember how I used to make up my own pies?" He’d been so patient with her when she was small, sitting at the table and pretending to eat the awful things she’d made up. He’d made the tea for them both, so at least that was edible. He’d scared away the maids and cook as well, when any of them dared to scold her.

"I remember one or two were slightly less heavy than lead, and slightly sweeter than salt." He handed her a glass jar of chocolate pieces and a bottle of vanilla.

"I shall make you one tomorrow, and you can judge for yourself if I’ve improved." Her father had only spoken to her of her coming out ball. Rum, she hoped, was more interested in what she had learned than what manner of man it would attract.

"Did they teach you anything more than Paris fashions and fancy tarts?" He spoke with a tone that many might find rude. She knew it to be a part of him, though, almost a shield. He was unsettled; she hoped it wasn’t because she was home. He’d allowed her the familiarity of a hug at the train station, but he hadn’t actually said anything about missing her or being glad that she was home. He’d fussed about her safety, though, and that was almost the same thing.

"French and Italian, the proper way to set a table no matter how many courses, mathematics, dancing, riding, and how to run a household."

"Should I expect to take my orders for you then, Miss Belle?" He raised an eyebrow even as he nudged her hand to remind her to stir her hot chocolate.

"If my father has his way I’ll be managing a husband’s home soon enough," she said with a sigh. She did not look at him, and missed the flash of pain in his eyes. "I’m barely home and he’s wishing me away again."

"His loss," the butler muttered. "Take your drink to bed; the scullery maid can wash the pot in the morning."

"Good-night, Rum." It did not occur to her that she was no longer a child and should not use the nickname she’d given him as a young girl. It did hit her, though, as she slipped out of her robe and into bed that he had called her Miss Belle, not young miss.

It made her sad, though she wasn’t sure why.


	3. To Be Young Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it wrong of me to dream of running away?

“You’re going out, Gold?” It was unfortunate that Moe French happened to arrive home earlier than usual, the chauffeur pulling up in front of the house as Gold was about to get into the car.

“A small matter that needs to be attended regarding the wine order, sir,” he lied with practiced ease. Eight years of having a full staff, and it still did not occur to Moe that it was strange that a butler was running errands of such minor importance. “If I have your permission?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you think is right.” French waved his hand in the direction of the car, or town. He had little understanding of how his own house ran, and even less of what a proper house should be like. “You’ll be here before the dinner gong? We have a guest joining us tonight, a Mr. Gus Aston.”

“Of course, sir.” Gold kept his face straight, because a butler did not show distaste for his employer’s guests. It was sure to be another too tall, too loud, ill educated young dandy or a vulgar lad with some distant relation to the aristocracy. Someone with more money than brains, he was sure. Someone entirely unsuitable for Miss Belle. “Is there anything I can fetch for you before I leave?”

“You don’t happen to know where my girl is, do you? She needs reminding that there’s company tonight; last time she showed up to dinner with a guest she looked like she’d come straight from the garden.”

“I believe she’s in the library, sir.” He did not let on, nor would he ever, that Miss Belle had been perfectly aware that there was company when she’d chosen to come in to dinner the week before after spending time with her roses.

“Probably with her nose in a book. There’s nothing wrong with reading, but does she have to do it all the time? Girls her age…” Moe shook his head. “I hope that new gold dress of hers is presentable. She does look rather nice in gold.”

“As you say, sir.” With a curt nod Gold took a step back, waiting at the car door until French was in the house, and having to bit his tongue to keep silent. It was easier to stop from speaking, though, than it was to stop from imagining Miss Belle in the gold dress. The color did suit her well, as the young pup coming for dinner would notice for sure.

“Is he gone?” Miss Belle crouched down in the back seat, half covered by the spare jacket he kept there.

“You are safe for the moment, dearie, though I’m afraid that you won’t be able to escape dinner this evening. Your father seems rather insistent.” Damn Moe French for never noticing his daughter when she cried out for his attention, but instead being more interested in how she looked and compared to other girls.

“Sometimes, Rum, I wish I’d never come home.” She waited until the car had rounded the corner before crawling from her hiding place. Rather than sitting in back, however, she joined him in the front seat. It was wholly improper but he didn’t have the heart to scold. “Is it wrong of me to dream of running away? I’m not a child any longer.”

Gold was glad that the excuse of driving kept him from looking at her. She wasn’t a child, and hadn’t been since she’d left more than two years before. No man looking at her would see anything but a woman. She also wasn’t her father’s possession. Damn the man for treating her like a stock to be traded.

“Perhaps you will find that one of these flibbertigibbets shares your desire to travel.” The law of averages meant that eventually she had to find one of the men her father brought home acceptable. One day she would leave. He had enough money set by that he’d be able to retire when he wanted. Perhaps he would do some traveling of his own.

“I don’t want to follow someone else’s whim. I want to make my own decisions, including if I marry and to whom. It’s my life.” There was no answer he could think to give, as she stared out the window. he had no destination, only his promise to help her get out of the house for a few hours. “He’s never going to understand that, is he?”

“Most people want to get married. Perhaps it hasn’t occurred to him that you would feel differently.” He turned left, towards the countryside rather than the town. They’d had no reason, since her return, to travel the old country lanes but she had enjoyed it as a child.

“Did you ever want to be married?” It was an innocent enough question, one she might have asked him as a child, but never had.

It was foolish to answer, serving no purpose, but he never lied to her. “I was married once.”

“What?” Beside him on the seat, she was completely still. He glanced to the side, but could not guess at her reaction.

“It was years ago. A lifetime.” It felt another lifetime, living in Scotland. His wife. His son.

“I don’t know very much about you at all, do I Rum?” Her hand touched his, briefly. It seemed a good enough time to park the car alongside the road, near a little creek. “I never have thought much about what your life was like before you were a part of mine. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Miss. It’s my job to…”

“You’re not just the butler, Rum. You’ve been my friend since I was a scared little girl. Sometimes I think you’re the only one who understands me. You don’t care about my fortune or getting me married off or if I’m stranger than most girls.” She’d drawn her legs up, as she used to when she was a child. Most of her dresses didn’t allow her to sit so anymore. They fit her too well.

“I’m glad that you think of me as a friend, Miss.” It meant the world to him, to have her friendship. her trust. “Shall we go for a walk, see if any beavers have worked up a damn yet this season?”

She opened her own door before he could do it for her, as usual, and was beside his door before he’d gotten his cane from the back seat. “You don’t have to call me Miss. You could call me Belle, couldn’t you Rum?” 

“It wouldn’t be proper.” No matter what she thought, no matter what she felt, he was the butler and she was Miss Belle. 

“You used to call me little miss.” 

“You’re not so little any more.” Though she would always be petite, shorter than himself even in some of the ridiculous shoes she often war. Tinier by far than some of the unsuitable apes French brought home to woo his daughter.

“If it meant the freedom I used to have I’d be glad to be young again.” As they neared the creak she paused to pick up a stick, holding it in one hand and waving it in front of her, a mock sword. “I used to imagine that I would run off and see the world, a pirate queen with my own ship. And my faithful butler.”

“I don’t believe pirates have butlers, Miss.” They’d read of Long John Silver together, in her childhood, and Captain Hook. The same stories he’d once read with his boy.

“I would have one. The very best one.” She sighed, and tossed the stick down. “I suppose an afternoon is the longest I can run away from my life.”

“One should never give up hope.” He would help her in any way she asked, to find her dreams. Even if they changed and it was a dashing hero she wanted to run away with, rather than an old butler.


	4. Chipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You kept it."

When she’d been a child she’d walked through the lowest level of the house with as much comfort as she did her own wing. More, in the beginning, when the kitchen and small rooms reminded her more of the apartment she’d grown up in than the towering ceilings and elegant furnishings. Now though, it had been drilled into her for two years what was and was not proper for well to do young ladies; the only time she was supposed to be in the lower rooms was to issue orders.

She didn’t care. Her head ached and she wasn’t going to wake up some poor maid that had to be up in three hours just to get her headache powder.

"Rum?" She knocked lightly on the door in the farthest back corner. All the other servants had rooms on the fourth floor; she wasn’t certain if it was his leg or a desire for solitude that made their butler insist on separate quarters.

"Miss Belle, you should be in bed." He wore a robe when he opened the door, and scolded her in the old way. It was enough to make her fear that she’d woken him up.

"I couldn’t find the headache power. There’s none in my powder room." There was a light on in the room; she could see past his shoulder that the space was as cluttered as she remembered. Some of it was familiar, some of it new to her. On top of a bookcase was a piece she hadn’t expected to see.

"My chipped cup." She ducked past him, headache half forgotten, and crossed the room to pick up the broken piece of china. "You kept it."

"There’s no reason to toss it out just because of a small flaw." When she turned he held a tin of powder in his hand. "I’ll go fetch you a glass from the kitchen, shall I?"

"No," Belle shook her head. "I’d like to use this one if it’s alright. It’s the first cup I ever used here."

"You were such a wee thing. The dining room table quite dwarfed you."

"You sat with me at the table even though I’m certain you wanted to shake your head and say it wasn’t proper." As he got the water he muttered something; she couldn’t make out much but thought she heard her father’s name and an insult of sorts.

"You were certain you were in trouble for accidentally dropping it. You could have smashed the whole set on purpose and no one would have said a thing." He handed her the cup, his thumb brushing her finger. Belle looked up at him.

"Everything scared me when we first came here. Everything except you."


	5. Proper First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Aston is falling in love with me.

He found her in the library, which wasn’t unusual. She was surrounded by books, which wasn’t unusual either; as a child she’d used them to hide behind, in a more literal sense. Now they were a more metaphorical border. The fact that they all seemed to be romantic in theme, however, was odd. He wasn’t even certain where all the books had come from, unless she’d gone asking the maids.

 

“Was there something you were looking for, Miss Belle?” It had become habit, to look for her after he’d shown Mr. Aston out. The lad had been coming at least once a week, sometimes three. Gold found it tiresome but it wasn’t his place to comment. Or care.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” She sighed and set down a book before picking up another.

“Shall I ring for Doctor Whale?” He was both concerned and confused, and showed neither.

“I don’t think it’s the type of thing he can fix.” She brushed out the skirt of her dress as she stood, careful not to knock over any of the books. “Perhaps that man I was reading about in the paper might be more useful. His name was Hopper, I think.”

“You have to be careful with his type, Miss. Many of them are charlatans.” He’d read the same paper as well, and didn’t like the sound of the man. A person’s thoughts should be their own.

“I don’t suppose papa would approve anyways.” She bent to pick up the books; he held out his hand to collect them from her. For a few minutes they worked without talking, not needing words to communicate. “Mr. Aston says that he’s falling in love with me.”

“Is he, Miss?” The news did not surprise him; who could spend so much time with Belle and not admire her? Love her?

“When we were in the dining room, waiting for papa, he kissed me.” She hid his face from him, suddenly interested in the book she held.

“If he pressed his advantage…”

“I didn’t stop him. I wanted to know what it was like, to be kissed. I never have before.” Her cheeks flushed at the confession. “He was my first.”

“Yes, Miss.” He still wanted to bean the boy on the back of his head for whatever he had done to cause his young mistress to frown.

“The stories all say… I think there’s something wrong with me, Rum.” Her shoulders slumped as she put away the last of the books. “Does a person get better at kissing when they have more experience?”

“I…” He was about to suggest that she talk to her father, for all the good that would do, or Mrs. Potts down in the kitchen. Belle shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”

“I’ve never known you to be silly, Miss Belle, not in the eight years I’ve known you.” She had been too serious as a child; it had been months before he’d heard her laugh.

“I thought I knew what it was supposed to be like. I just wanted a proper first kiss, the kind the other girls talked about. There’s supposed to be something special about it. The girls…”

“None of them are you, Miss Belle. You not feeling the same way does not mean that you are wrong, it simply means that you are different.” For a moment he forgot about the boundaries between them, and only remembered the way he had once comforted the small girl. The satin of her dress was smooth against his hand as he dared to touch her shoulder. “Perhaps it’s simply that you do not care for Mr. Aston in the same way he cares for you.”

“Does that make a difference, Rum?” She looked at him, eyes full of hope. He cursed himself silently as he nodded. 

“I think it does, Miss.” He had no great fondness for Mr Aston, and would not care if he never returned to the house. The idea of Bel’e searching for the right man, however, was terrifying.

“There’s only two men I’ve ever cared about, and one is my papa. Perhaps I might understand better if you…’

Gold took a step back. “I need to see to the silver. If there’s nothing else you need…”

“How can I know, Rum, that it wasn’t my own mistake?” She caught his sleeve before he was able to step away. “Please? I won’t ever tell anyone.”

“As you wish, Miss Belle.” it was, perhaps, the most foolish thing he’d ever done, but when Belle closed her eyes and tilted her head back he could not find it in himself to tell her no again. He meant only to brush his lips against hers, to sooth her pride. A touch wasn’t enough; he needed the taste of her if this was the only time he had the chance. His tongue crept into her mouth before he knew what he was doing.

“Rum,” she whispered softly, in a tone he’d never heard before. Not from her. He pulled away and was almost gone from the room before she spoke his name again. Fortunately he knew more of the house’s secrets than she did, and was able to hide before she came looking.

Kissing her had been a horrible mistake.


	6. Not a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold's first meeting with ten year old Belle

“Thank you Mr. French. I will show myself out.” He considered using the front door, just to illuminate how much the dressed up monkey did not know about what was and was not proper in a gentleman’s home. However he’d been a butler for too many years to break protocol, and headed for the servants entrance. He certainly didn’t plan to stay in the house any longer than was needed, nor would he say yes if the man offered him a job. Maurice French’s opinion that money could buy anything was far from true.

The long hall that led to the door took him past a flight of stairs. It was a detour that changed everything. On the fifth step was a small girl, holding a book to her chest and trying her best to hide the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“You might find this more useful than the sleeve of your dress.” He took a plain cotton handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. He might think that the child belonged to one of the servants, but so person in their right mind would dress a child in so much ribbon and lace. The material had the shine of a dress barely worn.

He hadn’t realized that Maurice French had a daughter.

“I got lost again.” Even after she’d wiped her face, tears shimmered in the little girl’s blue eyes.

“It’s a very big home.” The biggest on the block, and one of the largest in the neighborhood. Only the newly rich thought they had to prove just how rich they were.

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s a house. A mansion, maybe. But it’s not home.”

“Don’t you live here?” He lowered himself onto the step just below hers, putting them on almost the same level.

“A home is more than where you live. I don’t like this place.” She held the book closer to her chest, as if it was a life vest. “Papa says it’s better here but I can’t even find him most of the time.”

“Perhaps we might draw a map. A secret map.” His son had liked such things when he was a wee lad. “You could hide it in your book and use it to find your way around. And when you’ve learned all the secret places we shall burn it so no one else can find the way.”

“Like pirates?” He found just the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips.

“Aye. Perhaps there’s even treasure somewhere in this place.”

“Will you help me make the map?” she asked, holding out the damp handkerchief to him.

“I will.” It seemed that he would be saying yes to French after all.


	7. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm too scared to be brave." - Ten year old Belle

"I can’t do it." Dust smudged Belle’s cheeks and there were cobwebs in her hair from her adventure in the attic; Rum suspected that it was a need to escape her father’s guests and not curiosity that had driven her up the ladder; coming down was harder. 

"You can be brave young miss. Just a step at a time." Silently Gold cursed the leg that would make climbing the ladder on his own difficult, and fetching her down impossible. He could go for help, but that would mean leaving her alone.

"I can’t, Rum. I’m too scared to be brave." 

"Perhaps you don’t need to be brave, only to pretend that you are. What if you had just gone on an adventure and scaled the tallest mountain? How would you come down again?" He wasn’t certain if she really wished to travel, or merely wished to be away from the house that she still didn’t think of as home, but the young girl often spoke of the adventures she would have someday. For now she read books, and sometimes when he did not have other tasks he read with her.

"If I pretend to be brave I might really feel brave?" she asked.

"I think you will, dearie." At least he hoped so, if only for long enough for her to get down the ladder.

"I can be brave," Belle whispered as she lowered her foot to the next step. 

"I can be brave." She was down almost two thirds of the way when her slippery palms failed to grasp the ladder well enough and she fell backwards. Gold only had enough time to drop his cane before catching her. His leg was going to pay for the shock come morning, but the girl clung to his neck and wouldn’t let go. The fact that she was safe was all that mattered.

"Well done, young miss."


	8. Spinach and Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle, age 11

"Little Miss, it’s time for dinner." He finds her in the garden, half hidden by a rose bush.

"I’m not hungry." She’d been in the garden for most of the day and the sun will be setting soon; he can’t allow her to remain outside any more than she can skip a meal with her father. It’s a Sunday and the one day he’s certain to be there for the evening meal.

"You have to eat something." She has a maid, but the woman is useless when it comes to making sure the girl eats at each meal time. Belle makes no demands, something the maid takes advantage of; Gold is close to replacing her.

”May I have an apple and some spinach?” He can only see half of her face as she peeks out from between the rose leaves. ”I think that would be good.”

"It’s roast chicken tonight, little miss." Belle doesn’t hate vegetables, not like some children do, but she’s never asked for them before either. "Perhaps if you’re hungry afterwards."

"But I haffta have them now, Rum. Aesop needs his dinner first." She looked at him imploringly, hands outstretched as she presented him with a small turtle. "He’s hungry."

"You’ve found a turtle?" He had a feeling that she had plans for the turtle. The only surprise was that it had taken her over a year to think of a bringing home a pet. "Wouldn’t a kitten suit you better?

"Aesop needs me. See, sometimes he gets scared too." The turtle drew his head into its shell. Gold had observed the same, most often when Maurice brought anyone home.

"Then it seems that Aesop needs a home as well. I have a little wooden crate that might do nicely." Maurice wasn’t going to want anything as pedestrian as a turtle in the house. If his daughter asked for a pet he would want something rare, or at least expensive. 

All the more reason to keep the animal. 

"Sometimes he can sleep there and sometimes he can sleep with me in my bed. That was if he gets scared at night he knows that he’s not alone." The child did not know how telling her simple wish was; he hadn’t realized she was still scared of the house, or perhaps had nightmares.

"He won’t feel alone if he has you." it was his hope that the turtle would offer the same courage to the girl. "Let’s go find that apple, shall we?"

If Belle was late for dinner, Moe French was just going to have to wait.


	9. Noticed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and her friend Ariel talk about men

"I love him, Belle, I really do. And he doesn’t know that I exist. He’s off traveling the world and I’m here.” Ariel sighed as she pulled her nightgown over her head.

"And here I thought you were glad to be visiting me," Belle teased. Ariel had been her roommate for most of her time in school and they had bounded quickly. She’d arrived the day before for a nice long visit.

"I love being here. I’ve missed you, so much; none of my sisters understand me at all. i don’t know if they even like me very much. But haven’t you been frustrated before when the person you most want to notice you doesn’t?"

"There’s no one i want to notice me. My father keeps bringing home men that I have nothing in common with; you’ll meet his latest while you’re here." She would meet many, actually. 

"He’s not bringing home anyone you like?" Ariel pulled a comb from her bag and started on her hair. It was a comforting ritual, watching Ariel’s hundred brushstrokes.

"They’re all so shallow. I want someone with depth, layers that I can learn a little at a time."

"Like an onion?" It was Ariel’s turn to tease.

"Like a mystery. I don’t want to know him all at once, but a little at a time. I want to be surprised by him. i want to learn his secrets because he trusts me." Her father only cared about money when it came to the men that he brought home. The men only cared that she was an heiress, and pretty. Sometimes she wished that she was ugly.

"What else would he be like?" Ariel asked as she set down the brush and curled up in the bed. "Kind? Does he have a have smile, like Eric? Can he dance?"

"I don’t care about dancing. And he would always be kind to me, but he would have a biting wit as well. He would challenge me over books we both read. He would know when I needed a hug. But most of all he would want to be with me just for me." Belle turned off the lamp before joining her friend in the bed.

"I believe he’s out there for you Belle." Ariel promised.

"I hope so." Belle drifted off to sleep with thoughts of brown eyes always watching her and making her feels safe.


	10. Bah Humbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I need to apologize, Miss Belle"

There was a tree, of course. The biggest tree that it had been possible to find, at French’s instance, all done up in glittering baubles that cost enough to feed a family for a year. The servants had it up on the first of December, and Ruby had almost fallen off the staircase leaning over to put the star on top. Down in the servant’s hall there was a smaller tree, more simply decorated and missing a few branches but they’d put the thinnest part in the corner so that didn’t matter.

The rest of the house was decorated as well, pine and red ribbon draped over all the mantles and bannisters, wreaths hung in a dozen different places. Even Gold had to admit that the house looked festive. The only place in the house not decorated was the room belonging to Belle French. Or rather it had been undecorated, a pile of pine, tinsel and holly stacked up in the middle of the hallway.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong, Mr. Gold. I was told to do all the upstairs rooms.” Ashley was on the point of tears, something Gold wasn’t in the mood to deal with.

“Take the rest downstairs and see if they’re needed. If not they can go in the servant’s hall. You didn’t do wrong.” He was relieved when the reassurance was enough to send the maid running, and he didn’t need to admit that the oversight had been his own fault. Ashley had been around for a year, but it had been three since Miss Belle had been home for Christmas. Still, it wasn’t an excuse and though he didn’t need to say a word to Ashley he did owe an apology to Belle. Lightly he knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called out. The two words were not enough to read her tone of voice, especially through the closed door. Her back was turned when he entered, not making it any easier.

“I need to apologize, Miss Belle. I did not remember to instruct the maid about not decorating your room.” He stayed just inside the door.

“Was she terribly upset about her hard work being undone? I was sorry about that; I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.” Belle set down her pen, half turning in her seat.

“It does not matter; she does as she’s told. This is only her second Christmas so she was not aware…”

“That I’m a terrible Ebenezer Scrooge and scare children with my ‘Bah Humbug?’” She laughed at herself, but the smile faded into a sigh. 

“I appreciate all the ideas the holiday stands for, I just can’t find it in here to celebrate, Rum.” She held a hand to her heart. “One would think I’d eventually be grow up and be alright with the holiday. Perhaps I need a couple of spirits to visit.”

“Scrooge was a miser of a man who delighted in hurting people until he learned the error of his ways. You’re kind and generous, not just for one month of the year but for all of them.” And if she needed to grouse a bit about greenery and silly songs then she could as much as she wanted. He’d take down the whole damn tree if she preferred, but she’d never asked for that, only for her room to be a safe haven from Christmas.

“The thing that makes it so hard is that mama would be sad if she knew that I didn’t celebrate her favorite holiday for her. But I just can’t, Rum. It still feels so wrong that she’s not here.” When she bit her lip she looked like the same ten year old who hid in the closet the first Christmas and cried when she saw how many presents were under the tree.

“The mother that you’ve told me about, Miss Belle, would be more distressed about your unhappiness than the holiday.” If he was a god fearing man he would believe that he was going to hell for the number of times he’d wished that it was Belle’s other parent who had lived, and not Moe French.

“It wasn’t as hard at school, because everything was new and different. It wasn’t about trying and failing to do the same things we did with mama.” There was a bit of pine still on the carpet; Belle bent to pick it up.

“Perhaps there are one or two of those new school traditions you might like to introduce into the household this year? Anything you like you only have to tell us.” He would like to find a way to make her smile about the holiday.

“I might do that. I have to think about it.” She squeezed his hand, and that was all he needed to feel better about his error. “Thank you.”


	11. Lightening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re giving me that look, Rum. I know that look even though I haven’t seen it since I got back. I know you’re a second from scolding me, but I had to be out there. I felt so alive, Rum, like… like I could fly."

“I just saw the most marvelous lightning storm. It was like watching nature dancing.” Gold was pacing the front hall, a moment from sending out a servant to search the grounds when Belle burst through the front door. She didn’t wear a coat and her dress was soaked through, dripping onto the floor. Her hat was missing as well.

“You’re giving me that look, Rum. I know that look even though I haven’t seen it since I got back. I know you’re a second from scolding me, but I had to be out there. I felt so alive, Rum, like… like I could fly. I’m drunk but not on alcohol, on living.” When she held out her hands and spun the hem of her dress sprayed water over the tile. Gold sighed, torn between knowing how improper it was, but more importantly how worrying it had been knowing she was out in the storm, and just wanting to watch her. It had been weeks since he’d seen her so unabashedly happy.

“Lightning can be dangerous, miss.” He had seen, once, a man after he’d been struck by lightning. He’d lived, but not as the person he’d been before.

“It jumped from cloud to cloud like it was racing. I raced with it.” Belle took two steps, perhaps meaning to run, but slid on the trails of water. He caught her arm. It was freezing.

“Come into the library and stand before the fire while I have the maids draw you a bath.” She’d spent most of the first winter he’d known her ill with colds. After that they’d been rare, but then she also used to dress more warmly. There had even been a phase where she’d scandalized her father by wearing pants. Now her dresses were silk and barely reached her knees. When they were wet…

He’d been so caught up in his relief and worry that he’d barely looked at her dress. The pale blue silk was plastered to her, doing nothing to hide her curves. He could make out the way her skin dipped below her collarbone and the roundness of her breasts. A drop of water from the base of her neck ran down her skin and disappeared into her cleavage. To his shame he followed the path with his eyes before he made himself look away.

“How about I come warm up in front of the fire in the kitchen and you make us a hot toddy instead? I’ve always wanted to try one and this seems like the perfect time.” She bent, balancing on one foot at a time as she took off her shoes. He didn’t even dare to look at her once he realize that she was facing away from him and the dress was just as plastered to her back as it was to her front.

“Your father wouldn’t approve. It’s one thing for a small girl to spend time downstairs, but now…”

“Now I’m a woman grown and I can make my own decisions. Unless the staff would rather I didn’t. I don’t want to invade anyone’s space.” Belle’s smile slipped a little. “Maybe I’d better have a hot drink up in my room.”

Gold shook his head. If there was one person he’d break his own rules for on what was proper, it was her. “If you’ll change into something warm, miss, I’ll make you a drink down in the kitchen. I think Mrs. Potts did some baking earlier, I’m certain I can find a treat to go with your hot toddy.” 

“Our hot toddies, Rum. You have to join me.” Belle ran up the stairs to her room before he could answer. It wasn’t a good idea, but still he made his way down to the kitchen and started the water boiling.

He whispered a silent thank you when she came down in a long wool skirt and thick sweater. He didn’t want her getting sick, after all.


	12. Green Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shh.. you’re supposed to be sleeping, Rum. It’s…” She squinted at her wrist, trying to make out the time. It wasn’t until she tried to feel the time with her fingers that she realized she wasn’t wearing her watch.

She made it halfway up the stairs before the light was turned on. Quickly she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to keep out the tiny lightning bolts. 

“Not ready for the sun yet.” The sun, however, did not listen to her and the room stayed illuminated. Belle covered both eyes with a hand and slowly dared to open them. Gold was standing in the hallway. 

“Shh.. you’re supposed to be sleeping, Rum. It’s…” She squinted at her wrist, trying to make out the time. It wasn’t until she tried to feel the time with her fingers that she realized she wasn’t wearing her watch. “You’re supposed to be sleeping. I told you Ruby would wait up for me.”

“And Ruby told me you’d instructed her to leave the door unlocked but not to bother staying up, miss.” He was frowning at her again. Still. He was always frowning at her lately, but not very much because he was avoiding her when it wasn’t absolutely necessary for him to be around.

“It’s silly for anyone to stay up for no reason but to open a door for me. I can open my own doors.” Feeling a little wobbly, Belle turned and sat. She didn’t notice that she was in the middle of the stairway and that it wasn’t really a place for sitting. “Gus opened the car door though. Bu I could have opened it. My fingers all work.”

She wiggled her hand at him. And then, amused, wiggled her fingers again in front of her face. Her thumb didn’t seem to want to play with the rest of her fingers, but it moved better than the pinky. “Do you think it’s strange that you can’t bend your pinky finger by itself, Rum?”

“I think Mr. Aston should be taken out somewhere and horsewhipped. What has he done to you?” Somehow Rum was suddenly closer, though not as close as her fingers.

“Gus has a friend visiting from Switzerland. Do you know what they have there, in scissor… swizzle… swizzerland?” Her fingers had stopped wiggling. Huh.

“Chocolate and some very tall mountains, and apparently some friends of Mr. Aston’s that shouldn’t have left their country.” 

“Oh, chocolate. We should go have some. Cake would be good. Chocolate cake, but if there’s none then we could have cookies.” There had been dunner earlier, she knew they had eaten but she couldn’t remember what exactly, or when. “We should put the kitchen closer to the front door. We could be there already.”

“Your Mr. Aston, miss. What did he have?”

“He’s not my Mr. Aston. He wants to be and dad wants him to be. Maybe he and dad can go off and be married and leave me alone. He’s so…” He didn’t care about her books, and he wouldn’t talk about current events with her. He didn’t like it when she ran unless they were playing tennis, and even then she’d learned it was better to let him win.

“Belle, I need you to look at me.” Her head moved, or maybe it stopped moving. Rum’s eyes were really a very pretty brown color.

“You called me Belle. Not even Miss Belle, and you usually call me miss. Only lately you don’t call me much of anything because you barely stay in the room unless dad is there too. I hate you being mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad at you, miss. I’m concerned. You’ve had something to drink.”

“I had a lot to drink. Gus’s friend had some absinthe with him and I never got a chance to try it when I was in Europe, but I did tonight. But it’s a secret because it’s not supposed to be drunked. Drinked. Dranked. But it’s all gone now so no more evidence.” The first sip had been strange on her tongue, but she’d enjoyed it. The second drink had been fuzzy feeling. She was still fuzzy. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I promised Gus.”

“Mr. Aston shouldn’t have asked you to make such a promise. A gentleman wouldn’t.”

“He’s a gentleman like dad’s a millionaire. New at it and wearing it like a mask, not like it’s comfortable on him. He’s not like you. You’d be a gentleman even if the world was coming apart and you were wearing flannel.” Belle giggled, suddenly imagining Rum dressed all in plaid, in a field of cows, still being a gentleman. She didn’t know what the cows were doing there. “Moo.”

“We should get you to bed, miss. I’m afraid you might need headache powder in the morning.”

“No cake?” Belle looked up at him, not understanding why he was suddenly taller. He was always taller than her, even in her shoes, but he’d been near her face and now he was above her.

“Not tonight. Stand up, miss.”

“I’m not standing?” She looked down; the stairs were awfully close. Why was she sitting on the stairs? She’d sat on a chair at Gus’s, she was sure of it. He’d wanted her to sit on the sofa with him, but his hands tried to wander from his side of the sofa to hers so she’d insisted on a chair. 

“Only half a flight of stairs to go, and then I’ll go fetch Ruby to help you get into bed.”

“I don’t need help.” She wondered what he would say if she asked him to help her. Not that even she would dare be so bold. She did lean on him a little, though. Sometime between her leaving the house hours ago and now her dad seemed to have one of those new escalators installed. It wouldn’t stop moving.

They stopped outside of her bedroom door. Belle frowned. “When I will little you would come in and tell me a bedtime story.”

“You’re not a child anymore.”

“I still like stories.” There were things, though, that she liked more. “I like you too. I miss you.”

“I’m right here, miss.” His hand was at the small of her back, steadying her.

“You’ve barely looked at me for two week now, Rum. I miss you.” The house was empty when it was just her. Maybe she’d have to invite someone to come visit, like Ariel. It would be a distraction, at least. Though that was a good thing about Gus, he was always good for a distraction.

“You’ve been busy with outings and I…”

“You’ve been avoiding me ever since we kissed. Was I that bad?” It had only been her second kiss. It was still her second kiss, as she’d managed to skirt away from Gus anytime he looked like he might try again. But it had been a good kiss, at least for her. “You can tell me. Maybe there’s a book I…”

“You should go to sleep now.” He seemed like he was ready to bolt, in a completely calm and gentlemanly way. She wrapped her fingers around the top of his cane.

“Please, Rum, can’t we maybe forget it then? We can go back to…”

“I can’t forget it.” He pulled at the cane, but she held firm.

“Rum?”

“It wasn’t bad. But it was wrong, and it can’t happen again.” 

The next morning Belle’s memories were a fog, but she was certain she didn’t dream the fact that Rum had given her a good night kiss before leaving her.


	13. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't an accident

"Do you see what I mean now, Mal?" Regina Mills turned to her friend with a smile full of smug righteousness. "I can’t believe the girl went to a finishing school."

"I seem to remember a girl who once raced off to the stables every time her mother’s back was turned," Mal commented with a raised eyebrow. Regina didn’t pay the comment any heed.

"It’s luck that the girl has a suitor that seems interested enough in her that she won’t be a problem much longer. It’s clear to see what has caught his attention, and it isn’t the girl’s manners." From the patio where he was supervising the setting up of tables for the party Gold grimaced. The woman had been a thorn in his side for weeks now, ever since she and Maurice French had ‘accidentally’ met on the train. Gold had his suspicions about how accidental the meeting had really been. Regina Mills was a woman who liked the fine things in life, but had blown through her first husband’s fortune at an alarming rate. "You’ll meet him tonight, Mal dear. Between the two of us I’m sure we can convince Mr. Gus Aston that a spring wedding would be just the thing. The sooner I get rid of the little chit the better."

It was unfortunate for Regina that she chose to walk towards the part of the yard where the staff was cleaning up for the party planned for the evening. It was very unfortunate that Gold’s cane happened to get in front of her foot, and that she happened to land in the pile of ash that Peter had just cleaned out of the outdoor fireplace. Her black dress was covered in soot.

"Oh dear," Gold said, completely deadpan.

Regina’s eyes narrowed, but she was not stupid enough to accuse him of anything.


	14. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold dreams of Belle as she was and as she is now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is here, people. Smut of toe sole type, but still fair warning.

It’s story time. They’ve moved on from Treasure Island and he’s decided that Alice in Wonderland, all the rage, is a good next choice. He’s read the book already to be sure it’s suitable for his Little Miss, and though the tale is not what he’s used to he thinks it will appeal to the imaginative girl.

"Papa’s making me take tennis lessons," Belle says with a frown as she comes to sit with him on the sofa. Rather than sit beside him she lays claim to his knee, always careful to avoid his bad leg. It’s a level of familiarity that’s not appropriate but he can’t tell her no. Her father’s been gone a week on business and he knows she gets precious little affection.

Besides, it won’t be long before she’ll be too old to do such a thing. It’s been two years since he’s joined the household staff and she’s already lost much of what made her a child. Soon she’ll start lengthening her dresses and pinning up her hair. ”It’s good exercise, and you can run without anyone scolding you.”

"I suppose. He’s only making me, though, because all the other girls at the club are taking lessons. He doesn’t care what i want to do." She leans her head against his shoulder, something he permits only in the evening when he’s reading her story and he’s sure the rest of the staff won’t disturb them. He’ll hardly be able to keep order below stairs if they learn that the young child can see through his gruffness so easily.

"He wants what’s best for you." It’s what every father wants, though he questions how well Maurice French sees his daughter’s needs. It’s not his place to say anything, so he opens the book instead. "Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…"

"Rum we’ve read this one already. Years ago."

"But…" He blinks, but nothing changes. Gone is the little girl in plaits sitting on his knee. She’s grown, a woman now. His little miss left more than two years ago and sitting on his knee is Miss Belle, almost a year home from boarding school.

"Papa made me play tennis with Mr. Aston today. I don’t think he was very pleased when I beat him." She’s relaxed on his knee, balanced as easily as if she was sitting in the solarium for tea. "He wants me to marry Mr. Aston and be a proper little wife and give him grandchildren."

"He wants what’s best for you." He can’t even believe the words this time. Mr. Gus Aston isn’t worth a moment of his Belle’s time.

No, not his. How can he think that, even in his own dream? Belle is the child he’s done his best to take care of, now becoming a young woman. Someday soon she’ll find a man, if not Mr. Aston than someone else, and she’ll leave. And he’ll have to decide if he moves on as well.

"What do you want, Rum?" A few whisks fallen out of her bun caress her cheek as she tilts her head to the side.

"I’m not your father." There was a time he would have been proud to have Belle French as his daughter. He’s not sure when that stopped,when he started thinking about her that are inappropriate both as a man his age and one of his station in life.

"No, you’re not. But no one ever asks you, Rum, what you want. You must want something." Her palm rests against the front of his black jacket, two fingers brushing against his blue tie. "Have you ever told anyone your heart’s desire?"

"Belle…" She’s too close and she smells too good. It’s a dream, he’s never smelled in dreams before but he knows she’d worn flowers that evening and the scent clings to her.

"I think I can guess, can’t I? You kissed me, Rum." She’s moved somehow, in the space of a blink. He shouldn’t expect logic in a dream but he didn’t expect Belle’s appearance either. He’s been thinking about her too much lately. Never, though, has he thought of her the way she is now, facing him with a knee on either side of his legs, her skirt bunched up around her knees.

"I couldn’t say no, but it was a bad…"

"No it wasn’t, Rum. You wanted it. You know you did." Her lips are on his again, as soft as he remembers. His heart is pounding so hard he’s sure he’ll wake himself up. "I wanted it too."

"Belle."

"Close your eyes and let me…"

He jolts awake, the room dark and the echo of her lips feeling far too real. For a moment he can taste her. Involuntarily he licks his lips, but the taste is gone, like a whisp of smoke drifted upward.

If only the hardness between his legs would fade so easily. He’s gone years without thinking about sex for more than a fleeting moment, but the past months he’s woken far too often with his cock stiff and thoughts of Belle on his mind.

His dream wraps around him as tightly as his hand on his cock. It’s the most vivid one yet, the softness of her so close to him, the paleness of her skin almost within his reach. He could have slid a hand under her skirts and touched her.

The god of his childhood, long since cursed and hated, would send him to hell for his thoughts. Gold would not argue about deserving it.

"I’m sorry," he whispers to his ceiling as he strokes his cock, tension building as he thinks about her smile and the warmth of her little hands. He does not care about god’s forgiveness, but the woman sleeping two floors above.

"Bastard," he growls at himself as he curls his fingers around his own skin and imagines what it would be to touch Belle, and feel the dampness between her legs. What would it be like to have her spread her legs and call him Rum as he joined with her, or to touch his cock with that look of concentration usually reserved for books? Would she make sounds or cling tightly to him?

"Belle," he moans as he spills himself onto the sheet. His dreams are as close as he’ll ever come to having his answers.


	15. The Other Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were married once."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place not long after Belle got drunk on absinthe. Ariel is visiting; please forgive my complete unoriginality on her last name.

“You were married once.” Gold looked around the library; he had been under the impression that it was empty. Maurice French was in his office and Belle was meant to be out riding with her friend Ariel, Mr. Aston, and a few of his friends. Belle, however, seemed to be in the window seat instead.

“I was.” It seemed a lifetime ago and a world away. It was a world away, on the other side of the ocean.

“Did you love her?” She was more somber than usual. Since Miss Arial Havfrue had come to visit she’d been cheerful; it had been a joy to see the friendship between the two young women and to know that Belle had such a companion in the time she was at school.

“I did when I asked her to marry me.” By the end there had been confusion and anger, duty and malice. The only love had been for his son.

“Do you ever miss it? Being married?” The afternoon sun had him half blinded, coming from right behind her. It was hard to judge her expression.

“I don’t think about it very much. There isn’t much point to it; she’s not a part of my life anymore and hasn’t been for twenty years.” He frowned, finding a book out of place that at least gave him something to do with his hands. “There are people that are meant for marriage, miss, and those that are meant to live a more solitary life.”

“And then there’s the other ones, Rum.” When she stood Gold could see the wan smile she offered him. He could also see the shadows under her eyes. “Forgive me, Rum? I was being rude to put you on the spot like that.”

“I’ve never know you to have a rude bone in your body, miss.” Ashley had commented earlier that Belle had been out of bed already when she’d gone up to help the ladies dress. Now he wondered if she’d been to sleep at all. “May I ring for some tea for you? Mrs. Potts has some tea cakes made up for this afternoon and they’d been a nice treat.”

“Thank you, Rum, but I should go find Ariel. I promised her a walk around the pond this afternoon, since our ride was postponed.” Belle drew the shawl she wore closer around her. “I am sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about your life back in Scotland very much.”

“There’s little in my life interesting enough to bother with, Miss Belle.” His wife certainly hadn’t found him interesting enough to stay, not once the lure of adventure had come along. His only regret was that she had taken their son with her. It had taken two years of searching before he’d given up. They’d vanished without anything more than a letter. It had been another three years before he’d left Scotland behind, knowing there was nothing for him there.

“Sister Ghorm says we’re not supposed to hate anyone, but I don’t think I would have liked her very much, your wife. You’re interesting enough for me.” Gold was thrown enough by her comment that he didn’t say anything until she was almost gone from the room.

“What did you mean by ‘the other ones’ miss?” he asked.

“You said there’s people suited to marriage and people who aren’t. You left out the ones that don’t have a choice.” 

“Belle…” But he was too late, she was gone from the room and he could not go after her. Not when he heard Miss Havfrue’s voice in the hall.

“Damn you Maurice French,” he swore under his breath as he waited for them to move on to another room. He was sure the man’s unwanted matchmaking was behind Belle’s rare bout of pessimism.

It hurt him to know there was precious little support he could offer. Not as her friend and certainly not as anything else.


	16. Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you like it?” Belle spun, feeling like dancing for the first time that night.

They served champagne at the party. Belle only had two glasses, no matter how many times Gus offered to get her another; two was enough to make her head spin. She danced. She ate. Whenever possible she sat and watched. Ariel had been over the moon to realize that a man named Eric had been on the guest list. Belle at last met the mysterious world traveler, and the best part of the evening was her friend’s joy. It was no wonder that Ariel had agreed to stay the night when a select few were invited.

Belle pleaded a headache and had returned home alone, saying goodbye to Gus at the front door. Ruby had been waiting up for her, but once her coat was hung up she’d sent the girl to bed; it was already after midnight and she’d have to be up early. Belle was too restless for sleep. She headed down the stairs instead of up, thinking that tea might help. She could make it herself; Mrs. Potts had gone to bed hours ago, upstairs with all the other servants. 

All but one.

The light was still on in Rum’s room, just a crack visible under the door when she walked down the hall to the kitchen. She hadn’t visited him downstairs since Ariel had arrived, and even before that not often since she’d returned from school. She missed him. Not just Ariel’s visit but her social obligations had taken away so many of her quiet moments at home.

“Rum?” Belle knocked lightly on his door. If he’d fallen asleep with the light on she didn’t want to wake him. When he answered the door she giggled.

“Miss Belle?”

“We match.” She wasn’t certain why it stuck her as so funny, but his golden robe was tied with a black cord, and she wore an evening gown of gold lame adorned with black roses. 

“Though you wouldn’t have fit in very well at the Simpson’s party. They have _standards._ ” Belle rolled her eyes; she was so tired of the endless balls and the nonsensical rules about nothing that mattered. “Will you come drink some tea with me, Rum? I don’t want to make it just for myself.”

“Has Miss Havfrue gone to bed already, miss?” Belle could see past his shoulder, his bed already turned down and a book on the pillow. She shouldn’t have bothered him.

“Ariel stayed over for brunch in the morning; she hopes she can get Eric’s attention and maybe a promise of another dance.” It was only two days until the next ball; Belle was already exhausted at the idea.

“I’ll just step inside and dress, then…”

“Don’t be silly, Rum. And don’t tell me it’s improper. We’re having tea in the kitchen, and no one will see you’re not your usual immaculate self.” She tugged on the cuff of his robe. “Please?”

“One cup, and only if you allow me to make it. You don’t need to be fussing in the kitchen in that dress.”

“Do you like it?” Belle spun, feeling like dancing for the first time that night. “Do you remember when I was little and you’re put roses in my room because I told you how much my mama loved them?”

“I’m certain there wasn’t a prettier lass at the ball tonight.” He had his back turned to her, getting the tea. For a moment Belle was remembering the roses she hadn’t thought about in years, and almost missed what he said.

“Because of my dress?” Belle bit her lip, not sure why she’d dared to ask.

“You could have been dressed in potato sacks and you would have been the prettiest there.” The running water half muffled his reply, but Belle had been listening carefully. Perhaps too carefully, her breath held until he spoke. Gus Aston’s flattery, repeated often, was nothing compared to a single compliment from Rum.

“Thank you.” She waited until he turned to kiss his cheek. It wasn’t quite how she wanted to kiss him, but she had to respect him when he said it wasn’t what he wanted. He thought she was pretty, and that was something.

“I have eyes, and I’m not a fool. Any other man would tell you the same thing.” He carried the tea to the table along with a few cookies, grumbling in a way that usually made the rest of the servants nervous.

“Many men have told me I’m beautiful, but they were always talking about my face and my body. Or my fortune. None of them have known me.” Rather than sitting across the table, Belle sat beside him at the table. After a yawn that she didn’t bother to cover she rested her head against his shoulder. “You’d like me even if I was ugly and poor, wouldn’t you Rum?”

“I would, miss,” was the last thing she remembered until waking up in an unfamiliar bed, the hands on a clock telling her it was after three. The bed was one she’d never slept in, but the room was familiar enough, as was the man sleeping in the chair in the corner. 

She must have fallen asleep at the table. She’d slept through him tucking her into bed, and more importantly getting her from the kitchen to his room. He must have carried her for the first time since she was thirteen and broke her arm trying to put a bird back in its nest. And she’d missed it.

The mattress was not as soft as her own, but the worn quilt was more comforting than the silk comforter on her bed. It was big enough that he could have fit comfortably as well, rather than sleeping on his chair, but Belle knew he would never do anything so improper. He was probably mortified just having her in his room, but the other option would have been calling for help to get her to her room. He’d never do that.

“I’m sorry I cause so much trouble,” she told his sleeping form. He looked so tired. The extra guests and constant dinner parties didn’t help, but she hadn’t been fair to him lately either, asking him questions she shouldn’t and reminding him of things he didn’t want to remember.

“I wish we could go back, to when it was just you and me and my father ignored me. I miss you, Rum.” She pulled the quilt off the bed, and with care draped it over Rum’s body. She didn’t dare try to get him into bed, though for a brief moment she wondered what it would be like to be in the bed with him. To touch him, more than lip to lip. She’d read books, but they were hard to understand. They had been taught a little in school about their duties as wives, but anything that happened in a bedroom had been largely ignored. In her dreams Rum was the one to touch her, and teach her. 

“I wouldn’t want to go back if it meant forgetting kissing you.” She dared to brush a strand of his hair away from his face, certain that he was still asleep when he didn’t react. “I love you, Rum. I’ve always loved you, but not like this. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love anyone like I love you.”

It was something she probably would never be able to tell him, but maybe a small part of him would understand and remember. If nothing else she wanted him to know that he was loved.

Belle turned out the light before leaving his room and heading up the stairs.


End file.
